Counterfeit Bills and Zip Ties
by TheAlimghtyBecks
Summary: Beca Mitchell, CIA agent turned criminal is caught after 4 years on the run and is given an offer she cannot turn down. Bechloe AU.
1. Chapter 1

_**AN: I decided to start a new fic and yes, I know it's short but I plan for the chapters to be a little longer in future, this is just the intro if you will. Anyway, please review even if you hate it. You can't expect to grow as a writer if you don't take on board the bad reviews and improve your shit. Happy reading, you nerds. Xo**_

"Miss Mitchell, I'm offering you an out here. A pardon, if you will. All I ask is this one tiny favour in return and so far you've yet to speak. Did you understand the question or do you need me to repeat it?"

The Men in Black. The not-so-secret faces of the not-so-secret service. They're all the same. Men in their 30's with the same stupid haircut and those ridiculous sunglasses that they wear _everywhere._ I cannot say I never pictured myself here, I must admit. However, I thought I was a lot smarter that this and now sat in- well, tied to- this chair all I can focus on is how they even managed to find me after all this time. It's been a while since the… let's call it the _incident._ I knew they wouldn't just forget what happened but why try to make me think I got away with it? What was the point? I'd been living happily for the last 4 years hopping from country to country every couple of months. I met some cool people, I spent loads of time drinking, I had many-a drug fuelled adventure, I got a couple tattoos, I got laid a bunch and of course did some sight seeing but that's not so high on my list of cool shit I did. I was living wild and free, well, sorta. As free as you can be on the run and wanted in all states and due to the nature of _the incident,_ I was being hunted in all countries within NATO. Not that it bothered me, all the stuff I could ever want was in Asia, not to mention is was cheap. I guess the expenses weren't really an issue though.

"Will I get paid?" I asked with a smirk, knowing full well what the answer was. I just like to try and ruffle them.

"You will receive a full pardon for your crimes and a clean slate. No money," he replied with deadpan tone.

"You know, you're really not selling it to me here, Smith. I was doing fine in Laos with a non-clean slate. It'll take more than that."

"How about this: you complete this mission assignment we give you, you do as we say when we say it, you do not break character, and _if_ you're still alive at the end of it, which I'll be honest, isn't likely, you get your pardon and you will no longer be bothered by the CIA. If you refuse, you face the maximum sentence for treason," he shot back at me. Jail was sounding quite appealing. I could totally handle jail; I'm badass as fuck. "The maximum penalty for treason is execution, don't forget."

Damn, so close to getting out of this.

"Yeah, I still don't get why you need me though. You obviously knew where I was all this time. I'm not that stupid to not know when I'm being followed, physically or digitally. You clearly have people better than me at hacking, if you didn't I'd still be in Laos with a bottle of Jack in one hand, a cocktail of class A's in the other and a hot girl on my lap," I retorted. Why I tried to talk him out of the deal and push him towards killing me, I'll never know. I guess I'm just one of those people that like to see how far they can push things. It didn't make sense though. They needed me to go undercover and be able to report back to them in code, something most CIA agents in the IT field can do. They're not exactly bad hackers when it comes to these sorts of missions.

"Seriously, what are they teaching you guys down there these days? Back in my time, I'd have killed anyone suspect of treason without a shadow of doubt. No one is irreplaceable in this industry, Smith. You know that."

He paced up and down the interview room a few times, maybe collecting his thoughts, I don't know, I don't care. I'm 236% done with today already. It's exactly the same as yesterday and the day before and I just want to go to sleep if I'm honest but that is a pleasure I will not have this evening I'm guessing. I know they aren't going to kill me. At least not yet, they want something from me and this 'interview' is far from over unless they get what they want. I glanced around the room for what seemed like the first time since I'd been here today, which was a while now judging by the numbing in my ass cheeks. I shifted in my seat to try and ease the discomfort and continued looking. It was like every other interrogation room at Langley, I guess. I'd seen pretty much most of them in my time here. They all had off-white walls that really echoed your voice whenever you spoke, a metal table in the middle with enough room for two people to sit at and two matching chairs, perfect for keeping someone handcuffed to as I am currently experiencing. It wasn't common practice to keep prisoners hands behind their backs in interrogation but I guess they got a bit paranoid after the last time they had me in one of these things. The wall would not be complete without that huge one-way window in it. You know the ones you see in the movies? Yeah, that's the one. I have no idea who is on the other side today but I keep that thought to myself. I may or may not have gotten bored yesterday while waiting for the 'interviewers' to arrive that I started singing the chorus of Adele's _Hello_ to the people behind the glass. I thought I was hilarious. The guy that walked in and punched me on the nose did not.

Smith finally sat down and took off his glasses. This piqued my interest. His eyes were nothing out of the ordinary. There were prominent crows feet on the corners of his brown eyes and frown lines on the bridge of his nose. He looked at me, and I mean really looked at me as if he was trying to read my mind using all of his silly CIA tricks they teach you when you first start. I would know. I used to do the same. Study a person, notice little things and what they could mean about said person. He clearly seemed to forget I underwent this training. I know what he's doing and I know how to deflect it. They teach you that too. You're no use to anyone in this place if you crack under interrogation. So I just sat there waiting for him to finish 'reading' me. Not as if there's really a lot else I could have done.

A few minutes passed and his gaze was starting to get on my nerves. Either he's just trying to piss me off or he's mentally deficient.

"Dude, are you just going to stare at me all day or are you going to answer my question?"

He sighed and put his glasses back on his face before sitting back on his chair.

He glanced over at the window and nodded. He shifted his position to be facing me head on.

"We need someone on the inside that is no longer a federal agent. The people we are after are clever and that makes them twice as dangerous. They have lists. Extensive lists of anyone and everyone who currently works for the CIA. We need someone with your skills to be able to get inside and back out again without being detected. All of our agents that can already do that have been exposed. You are the only person we know of that is capable of getting the job done that's not on their list. We need you undercover to keep an eye on the guy we're after and his wife. We don't believe she has any idea of her husband's criminal activity but we cannot take that risk. We need you to get in close to the couple, befriend them and report back to us. When we have the evidence we need, you are to infiltrate the business he runs, hack into the system and send us everything on his computer so we can send in the big guns to shut it all down."

I sat back and contemplated things for a moment. It didn't seem too hard apart from the whole 'befriending' part. I hate people. People suck. Everyone takes life way too seriously and worries about little things like feelings and people being nice. We all die in the end anyway so why spend time worrying so much about stupid shit like 'am I gonna be their in time for my meeting?' or 'I hope so and so likes the gift I bought them'. Who cares? Just go forth and have fun kids, you know? Normal people worry about this trivial shit, I don't. My only worry in this world is if the girl I slept with the night before had the clap. I could live without it burning when I pee thank you. All in all though, this mission seems far too easy for my liking. There's something he's not telling me.

"All this just to save your own skin I take it? What does the guy do? Drugs? Smuggling? Counterfeiting? Fraud?"

"Counterfeiting mainly but he… dabbles in other things."

I let out a sigh. "What is it you're not telling me, Smith?"

"You already know the wife."

Now he had my full attention.

"Her name's Chloe Harris or Chloe Beale as you probably know her by."

Aaaand there it was. Chloe fucking Beale.

Shit. I'd not seen her since freshman year at college. We had just won the ICCA's. God knows how she got me into that a cappella group she loved so much. Damn her and her boobs and other feminine wiles. It was weird thinking about her. I'd not really given life pre-CIA much thought over the past 8 years. I had to cut off most ties when I joined. I'd hate to be the reason people got hurt if something went tits up.

Smith chuckled in his seat as I fell into deep thought about red hair, cerulean blue eyes and tanned legs that went on for days.

"So, I take it you're with us then, Miss Mitchell?"

"Well, I guess I don't have much of a choice, do I?" _Play it cool Beca._

"You do have a choice. It's either do the mission and maybe not die or don't do the mission and do die. Decision is yours."

"Well, what can I say? We all die but I don't feel like dying at the hands of the CIA. I'd rather choke to death on my own vomit after ODing in an alleyway in some random dirty city in the middle-east than at the will of you prissy douches."

Plus, I always said to myself I'd like to see the one and only Chloe Beale again before I die. Hopefully she remembers me like I remember her. It's been a while though so I wouldn't be too shocked if she didn't even recognise me. I'd be a little hurt, with the amount of sexual tension we had in that year and all but… Wait, what? Why am I worrying if she remembers me? I don't do worrying. Especially over women. Ugh. Fuck it.

"Uncuff me and hand me the file then, chop-chop, Smith. We haven't got all night."

 _What am I doing?_


	2. Chapter 2

_**AN: I am sorry for any mistakes in this chapter as I am slightly inebriated right now. BUT as a great writer once said: "Write drunk, edit sober." – I don't want to wait 'til I'm sober to edit so you'll all have to deal ;) PEACE OUT. xoxo**_

My wrists are so sore after being handcuffed for hours that day. I slowly stretched my arms out from behind me and my shoulders cracked more than what was probably considered normal. I stood up to try and stretch out properly but the second my ass left the chair Smith shot up from his seat and glared me down and studied every tiny detail of my movement. Jesus, I know I can be a handful but that was a bit of an overreaction.

"Smith, chill. I've been in that chair all day, I'm just stretching," I told him in a hopeful attempt to get him to stop staring at me like I was a murderer. (Well… I did murder a few people a while back but that's not the point. Nor is it a story for today.)

"Forgive me, Miss Mitchell, but the last time we let you get out of your chair, you did try to escape the room and assaulted an agent." He let out a small chuckle before continuing, "I don't know why you bothered. You know this place, you know that you couldn't get out of this floor, let alone the building, alive."

I just shrugged my shoulders.

"Meh, maybe I just like to keep you all on your toes. It's amusing watching you all panic. Mostly because I used to be exactly like you and I guess now it's funny to watch it from the other side. How life changes, eh?"

How life changes indeed. My existence has been a less than normal one from start to present day and I don't expect it to get any less strange as I get older. Well, if I get older. I started life in a broken home with an alcoholic mother and a dad who was never to be found. I grew up looking out for myself and never socialised until high school when my dad shows up again. I go from mature for my age to absolute teenage rebel without a cause in a matter of months. College helped me calm down a little but I still loved to push the buttons.

My favourite person to annoy was Aubrey Posen. She was the captain of the Bellas; that a cappella group Chloe's boobs got me to join. She hated my guts and I played on it _so much._

"Plus, that dude was a dick. He punched me for singing to him! I'll have you know I helped win the national trophy for colligate a cappella. My singing is beautiful, not punch worthy at all." I added. My cockiness only grew since I 'left' the CIA. I spent four years with a stick up my ass taking life seriously. Ugh, it was the worst. I've come to the conclusion that life's too short.

"We know, Miss Mitchell. You forget we know everything about you."

"You might want to delete everything about me from your computers if you have a mole."

"Who said anything about a mole?" He asked in a confused tone.

"I did. You said this guy Harris has lists. How has he obtained them? It's not exactly something you can find on Google. He either is amazing at computers or you have a mole. I bet you right down to my last dollar, it's a mole. Either way, you need to destroy your files on me, even if I'm listed as inactive or enemy of the state or whatever."

"All of your money is on the mole?" He said, suddenly intrigued with what I had said. Surely they thought of this possibility before, right?

"Every last cent. I'd even bet your state secrets." Truth rang through my words. I am many things. I am a murderer. I am a thief. I am a lowlife piece of shit. However, I am not a liar. Smith knows this. In all the interviews I have had, all the interrogations, all of the missions I did with him back in the day, I never lied. There's a way to get out of telling the truth without lying. I had become the master of deflection and distraction in my time here. A skill I've taken everywhere I've been.

Despite our current situation, Smith and I used to be inseparable. We were partners before I decided to become a criminal for a living.

You know I made more money in half an hour doing it illegally than I have ever earned in my entire life. Fuck working for another 50 years for the equivalent of a tenth of what I stole from the government.

I didn't just steal money. Oh no, I wouldn't be potentially facing death over money. I stole something much more valuable. I stole Information. Information the US would not want to get around. Funnily enough, I wasn't even looking for it. Once I had the money and secured it so they wouldn't find it, I decided whilst I was on the system and they hadn't caught on what I was doing, I would have a poke around some files and leave a trail to freak them out. It wasn't my intention to come across what I did. I knew there was something dodgy about the whole situation but I never expected to see blatant evidence of it. I found a lot of files to do with the war in the Middle East. One of them was a full report on bombings. There was some explaining the reasoning's for invading and a complete run down of the 9/11 attacks. Let's just say, it's not looking good for Bush, especially since I have those files also now. I never planned on doing anything with it but they don't know that. Smith knows that but they're not exactly going to take our words for it.

I thought a little more about the offer that had been made to me. No way in hell I was getting out of this alive. I pride myself on being knowledgeable. It's helped me this far but for once in my life, I know too much. I've always been smart. However, the second I opened those files, I became a moron. Who in their right mind steals state secrets and gets away with it? Let alone a pardon just for helping bring down a counterfeiter in return? No one.

I realised I'd been a moron twice now, not counting the time I got drunk in a bar in Thailand and mistook a lady-boy for Cher. I'd agreed to help them just at the mention of Chloe's name. I didn't think this through at all. I'm not getting out of this without a fight. The CIA is going to sell me out to the feds the second I complete their work.

I let out a sigh and sat back down in the chair and Smith looked me up and down quizzically. It looked like he had a lot to say but didn't know how. I chose to not say anything else. I needed to make a plan because I'm up shit creek with chopsticks for paddles right now.

The only thing keeping me alive at the moment is this mission and ironically, Chloe, the stupid ginger. Why did she have to get caught up in this business? She doesn't need me coming along to fuck shit up with her husband. They obviously have the nicest life money can buy at the moment, I'm sure Harris can provide her with all of the finer things what with all his fake money and probably secret business. There's no way she'd stay with him if she knew what was going on, she's too much of a goody-two-shoes for that.

"What can you tell me about the Harris' then?" I spoke up eventually after what seemed like an eternity. If I was going to escape this, I needed more information.

"Their names are Thomas and Chloe Harris. They got married in December 2008, 6 months after they both graduated college. Their daughter, Nala, was born in August 2009; she's now 6 years old, 7 in a few weeks. They live in Atlanta still, they never moved after they got married despite Thomas' occupation. The couple has rarely ever seen together in the year we have been collecting information. Chloe is an insurance broker and you know what Harris does. Their daughter attends Crawford elementary, a private school as I'm sure Mr Harris is like you and he's not short of money and can afford it." He turned the page on the huge file they have on the family and continued.

"Moving onto the interesting stuff. Mr Harris began a small engineering business in 2010 after losing his job. He hired a small team of men to help it build it and the illegal work came about 8 months after the business' establishment when he hit a lot of financial trouble. They started with drugs but soon that progressed and the more money came in, the more powerful he became. He supposedly stopped dealing directly with the drug side of the business and left that to a close friend, Joe Molano, to run. We know next to nothing about the counterfeiting other than it came shortly after the drug handover. He's been using the money to invest in the stock market where he makes even more money and to fund his lavish lifestyle. We have reason to believe he has secret bank accounts all over the place in several countries but no solid evidence. He's clever but not that clever. Someone else is pulling the strings somewhere, I just know it."

I sat back and let it all sink in. Chloe had a kid? Well shit. What a deal breaker. Anyway, I let my mind run back to how I was going to evade this deal with Smith. I still needed a plan of attack. This guy didn't seem to know what he was doing but at least he had the sense to hire someone to do the thinking for him. I let my mind drift once more and all of a sudden, I had a plan. No idea how I was going to pull it off, but a plan at least.

"When do we start?" I asked.

Smith looked up from his file. "We can start you in 2 days. You need a day to go through orientation and to be fully briefed on what's expected of you." He closed the case file and pushed it across the desk to me. "Read through it before tomorrow and we'll get you on the next flight to Georgia once you're prepped."

He stood up out of his chair and extended his hand to me. I shook his hand and he nodded before opening the door for us both.

"It's good to have you back on our side, Beca."

"Now, Jerry, don't you go getting all soppy on me. Can't have your rep ruined, can we?"

He chuckled lightly and led me through the labyrinth of corridors until we reached the room I'd been staying in and we parted ways without any further words ushered between us. I entered the room and threw myself onto the bed. I opened the file and began to read through it carefully as I pieced together the finer points of my plot to get out of this situation with my life.


	3. Chapter 3

_**AN: I would have had this up sooner but the servers were down and couldn't log into the site. T'was sad times but I pulled through like a trooper. Anyway, enjoy! Or don't, I don't care ;* xoxo**_

"I look like the Laura Ashley store threw up on me." I huffed. "Why do I have to wear this? I look like 60, for Christ's sake!" I had been forced to wear skinny-fit beige chinos, a thin baby blue cashmere sweater with white lace around the collar and a pair of small white heels. The only good thing about this outfit was the fact I was now 5'4 instead of 5'2.

Of course none of the stylists paid any attention to my ranting and rambling, they just carried on doing what they do. I let out a sigh and let them get started on my make up and hair. They put my hair into a simple bun, letting loose strands of curled hair around the side of my head fall to shape my face a little more and they also applied minimal make-up making me look like a typical soccer mom. In two words, I looked fucking ridiculous.

I know why they dressed me the way they did, I was just being stubborn 'cause I really hated the style. They wanted me to look my age. I'm 27 and supposedly moving to a small and quaint town near Atlanta, I have to look like the type of person that would live around here.

As the team began to pack up their stuff and vacate my new temporary home a couple of streets away from the Harris' home, one of them, an older woman approached me. She stared at me for a few moments until I raised my eyebrow. She brought her hand up to my ear and flicked it sharply.

"Ow! What the fuck?!" I shouted at her holding my now throbbing ear.

"Watch your language, young lady." She said, a thick Italian accent coating her words. "You understand your character?"

"Of course I understand, I used to work for you guys, you know? I know what I'm doing." She flicked my other ear. "Ow! Stop!"

"Stop acting cocky then. You are not the Rebecca Mitchell your friend knew in 2008, you are a new Rebecca Mitchell and she is eight years older and has grown out of her little emo phase. She is now a journalist and very successful. She dresses like a lady and wears her hair like the sophisticated. That means no swearing, no more drinking beer and shots, no more tattoos."

I'd stopped listening after the first few words and reached into my pocket for a cigarette. I brought the lighter up to the end and began to drag. The nicotine was a blissfully welcomed for all of about five seconds before this crazy Italian stylist lady snatched the cigarette from my mouth.

"And no more smoking." She scolded me and held the stick up to her own mouth and took a drag. She blew the smoke in my face and walked off triumphantly. What a bitch. I glared after her before I reached back into my pocket and replaced the cigarette that was taken from me. I'd had a few drags before Smith came up behind me chatting away about some bullshit about keeping up appearances and tore the cigarette away from my mouth. He held out his hand in front of me and cleared his throat. I huffed and rolled my eyes, folding my arms in the process. He remained unmoved other than the impatient tapping of his foot.

"Oh my God, fine!" I pulled the pack out from its hiding place and slapped it down in his hand.

"And the lighter." I glared at him and picked up the lighter off the side of the chair and handed it to him. He took it with a shit-eating smile. "Thank you, Miss Mitchell. Isn't it nice when we play by the rules?"

I turned my head to face him and glared at his smug expression. I just wanted a cigarette. No one could see me in here I don't understand the issue, it's not like the Harris' are going to walk on in here any second. They have no idea I'm here. Two out of the three of them don't even know I exist.

"Here's the plan. We will contact you when Chloe is on the move and you can 'run into her' and try to play catch up. Get closer to her, then Thomas and you know what to do after that."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. When do I start?"

Smith turned around to have a look at the commotion going on around a small laptop on the vanity in my 'bedroom'.

"You can start now actually." He walked over to the laptop and leant down to the screen. "She's at the Starbucks just around the corner from here."

My eyes went wide as saucers. Now? Right now? Fuck me I am so not as prepared for this as I thought I was. I've not seen this woman in eight years! What the hell am I meant to say to her? ' _Hey red, long time no see?'_ because that doesn't sound awful. Oh my days, why didn't I just let them execute me? That would have been much easier than this. Oh God, I'm sweating, I'm actually sweating just thinking about talking to her. My palms are disgusting right now. I need to get my shit together and fast. Maybe I can just walk in and "not notice" her and wait for her to recognise me? Yeah, that sounds easier than anything else I can think of right now. Okay, let's do this before I back out and let them take me to the chopping block.

"Umm, okay, I'm on my way." I stood up and moved towards the door concentrating very hard on every step. "Uh, smith? Where is this Starbucks?"

He handed me a piece of paper with a local map on it and tossed me some car keys. Ha! Like I'm actually in a fit state to drive right now.

I made my way to the door an out of the house. The exterior was even more disgusting than the inside. It was a modern two-storey building with window boxes full of colourful flowers, a small yet neatly kept front garden complete with rosebush and white picket fence. I secretly hoped one of my new neighbour's dogs would get loose and tear it up. It's sickening how cliché this house is. I swear the entire street is a replica of the set of desperate housewives.

I fumbled around with the keys once I reached the car and opened it up. The sound of the locks clicking open sent me into some sort of weird catatonic state. I stood there, keys in one hand, door handle in the other whilst staring at my open reflection in the window. My mind was racing to say the least. The thought that I was lost in the most was ' _why am I so nervous?'_ I don't do nervous. Maybe the fact if I fuck this up, I'm going to most likely die. However, that wouldn't normally phase me. That would make me more determined to stay alive. I'm not an idiot, I know that fear is good. Fear keeps your from getting yourself killed but the amount I am sweating right now is concerning. Why am I wearing so many light colours? I'm going to have sweat patches all over myself. Chloe's going to think I'm disgusting. I doubt she'd even recognise me. I mean, come on, chinos? Really? Chinos? A cocktail dress would have looked less absurd on me.

Snapped out of my thoughts by some kids shouting as they played across the street, I took a deep breath and got into the car. Even the car was matching to the style of the street. With a shake of my head, I turned on the engine and clicked in my seatbelt. I'll admit I nearly peed myself when Smith knocked on the window on the drivers side.

I turned the window down and gave him my famous 'what the fuck do you want?' glare.

"Beca, please don't do anything stupid. They're going to be following you, don't try and run for it again, it'll just make things harder for you." He said in an almost worried voice.

"I'm not going to run, Smith. I'm not that stupid."

"Just… be careful, okay?"

I'm not sure what to make of this. That nearly sounded like a warning. I nodded my head and took off from the driveway and towards the Starbucks.

A few short minutes later I was outside the store staring in with a vice like grip on the car keys. I scanned the shop for red hair a million times before I spotted what I was looking for.

There she was just sat at a table, steaming cup to her right and a book in her hand. She wears glasses now. Her hair is the same length, maybe a little longer. Okay, I know it's longer. The only visible signs of aging were some small crows feet by the sides of her eyes, probably because she spent so much of her life smiling. Her brow was furrowed as she concentrated on the words in front of her. The scar on her forehead had not faded nor had her light freckles. She seemed a little slimmer but her eyes were still just a beautiful as the day I first saw her. It made me happy to see she still had that Chloe Beale shine in them. The shine that made her face light up no matter what her expression was at the time. She wore a loose fitting blue blouse and grey skinny jeans with some heeled boots. Her jacket was strewn across the back of her chair as she sat there completely oblivious to her surroundings as she continued to read.

I let out a shaky breath, not ready for what I was about to do but I stepped forward anyway and walked into the practically empty coffee shop. The door had a bell on it alerting everyone in the room to my presence.

She looked up and my heart stopped as our eyes met.

I tried to mirror her surprised look to see her and let a small smile creep onto my face.

"Beca?" Her angelic voice called. Jesus, it was just as sweet as I remember. "Beca, is that you?" She pushed her glasses onto the top of her head and began to stand up still not fully believing it's me stood just 6 feet away from her. She pushed her chair back and walked towards me enveloping me in a bone-crushing hug. "I can't believe it's really you!" She whisper-shouted in my ear as she buried her face deeper into my neck. I took a deep breath and returned the hug with the same amount of pressure she was. She let go of me after a short while and I immediately missed her warm body pressed to mine. She smiled softly at me as I slapped the trademark smirk I had perfected to my face.

"Hey, red. It's been a while." And with that comment I felt a very sharp blow to the left side of my face.

Okay, I probably deserved that teeth-rattling slap but still, that fucking hurt. I clung to my face as it felt like it was on fire but was then pulled into another one of Chloe's hugs.

"You've got some explaining to do Mitchell. Eight years is a long time."

 _ **S.A.G-908- I'm sorry but I can't reveal any of my plans for this story. I'm working out the kinks but I have an ending in my head planned out. Wish all you want but it may not come true ;)**_


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I would firstly just like to thank you losers for the 64 followers on only 3 short chapters! I must be doing something right then! Reviews are welcome btw. *** **hint hint** *****

 **Secondly, I'm very much stuck in my Brummie ways so throughout the course of this fic there's a lot of swearing and maybe some slang that I don't realise isn't worldwide so I do apologies for that but don't hate 'cause you ain't. k?**

 **Lastly, my girlfriend is an idiot and somehow is getting charged for a hotel in Amsterdam so I'm travelling to Holland (Unwillingly) for an undecided amount of time to. I was going to use my time off work writing but instead I'll be reluctantly riding a gay bike along the canal and drinking Heineken. So don't expect an update for a week or two. Later, bitches. xoxo**

"I know. I'm sorry it's been so long. Life gets in the way I guess." It was the weakest excuse in the history of excuses. It's true; life does get in the way. Especially in your early twenties but I'm guessing that's not the explanation Chloe's looking for if her narrowed eyes and pursed lips are anything to go by.

"Umm, can I buy you a coffee or something and we can talk?" I offered.

She let out a sigh and nodded with a small smile creeping up onto her face.

"You still drinking those God-awful caramel lattes?" I asked and her eyes widened in confusion.

"You remember what coffee I drink?"

"How could I forget? We used to argue about it every time we were at the campus coffee shop and I tried to get you to drink normal people coffee." That's not why I remembered her coffee order but she doesn't need to know that.

"Not everyone likes black coffee, Becs." She shot back with a small smirk threatening her lips.

"Strong black coffee reminds me of me. It's dark, bitter, no one really likes it and not to mention it's hot. How could I not love it?" I added a wink at the end of my sentence, alas; I immediately regretted that decision when a small blush spread across Chloe's cheeks. I just stood there like a fucking idiot staring in wonder at her. Eight years later and the attraction is still the same. For fuck's sake, this is going to be harder than I thought.

I ordered the coffees and sat down on the chair opposite the redhead that had been plaguing my thoughts for days now and pushed her disgusting drink over towards her. She smiled and brought the cup to her lips and took a small sip. With a hum of content, she sat it down and glanced over at me. Our eyes met and she held my gaze for several seconds before I awkwardly picked my drink up to occupy myself.

"So, what are you reading?" I asked nervously. I knew what she was reading, I recognised the cover of the book. It was a worn out copy of _The Death of Ivan Ilyich_ by Tolstoy. She read it a million times in college for her Russian Lit class. I read it a few times then too so I could try to understand her obsession but I never could. Russian is a hard language to learn so I don't know why she ever chose to study the literature. She would sit on the couch in her apartment for hours reading and re-reading a page in Russian then open another book to read it in English to ensure she understood every single word. She was crazy but super dedicated I'll give her that.

"Cut the shit Beca, I'm not interested in small talk. Why are you here?" She snapped. My eyes widened at the sudden sharpness to her voice.

Damn, red got savage. I'm not sure if I'm scared or turned on right now.

"I Uhh, umm." That was all I could muster under her cold glare. One minute she was being all cute and just so… Chloe. Next she's the ice queen. What the actual fuck? "Well, work asked me to come here. I got some sort of assignment that they need me to report on so here I am."

"So, you're a journalist or something now?" She asked, obviously not very pleased with my answer.

"Of sorts, yes." My reply was short but seemed to satisfy her enough for now. I literally have no idea what's going through her head and that is starting to terrify me. She used to be this open book that wore her heart on her sleeve but now? Jeez, she mood swinging like crazy.

"What have you been doing since college? Eight years is a long time to go with out a proper catch up." I said.

"Yeah, and who's fault is that?" She snipped back.

"Chloe, come on. Don't be like that. A lot's happened in the past few years, I've not even been in the country for most of the time so cut me a break, yeah? I'm trying to reconnect here."

"You're only reconnecting out of obligation, Beca. You wouldn't have come and found me off your own back, you ran into me without expecting too and now feel like we have to talk. Hence all the bullshit answers and forced pleasantries you're giving me."

"It's not forced-"

"Save it, I know you, Mitchell. I know when you don't want to talk and this is one of those times." She sat back in her chair and sighed. She closed her eyes and recomposed herself before continuing. "I'm sorry." She said quietly. "I just don't know how to act around you at the moment. No one's heard from you in so long, half of the Bella's thought you were dead or in jail, but you're not, you're sat here and you seem to be doing very well for yourself. I'm happy to see you and that you're doing great, I really am, we were great friends back in college and that won't ever change but I'm still so angry with you. You just left right after ICCA's. Not a word to anyone, not a single word. It hurt, Beca. It hurt a lot."

I let out a shaky breath. I knew this would happen, I knew they'd all have been pissed at me for just leaving but being pissed at me is better than them being dead because of me.

"Chloe, I'm sorry. A lot has happened to me and I didn't want to drag you or any of our friends through it."

"That's for your friends to decide, Beca."

"Trust me when I say you couldn't possibly make that decision."

"Then what happened?" She asked as she sat forward and rested her hand on my forearm. I shivered slightly at the touch.

"I can't talk about it right now, I'm sorry." She sighed and with a small squeeze, she let my arm go. "You're still living here?"

"Yeah, Tom built his business here and Nala goes to school a couple of blocks away so I could never bring myself to leave."

Although I knew who they were, I had to pretend I had no idea so I shot her a puzzled look.

"Remember when I barged into your shower like two weeks into your freshman year?"

"How could I forget?"

"Do you remember the guy that came looking for me after we were done singing?" I nodded. "That's Tom. I got pregnant just after college so we got married and moved a little further away from the city to raise our daughter, little Nala. She's 7 in a few weeks."

"Well shit, Chloe Beale is a mommy, who'd have guessed it?" I let out a small nervous chuckle and she smiled at the thought of her daughter presumably.

"I asked because I've moved here. Just 5 minutes down the road actually and it doesn't look like I'm going anywhere anytime soon. I guess it'd be nice to actually have someone I know around here that I can you know, talk to, have coffee dates with on a Thursday afternoon."

"I work Thursday afternoons." She replied with a mischievous smirk.

"Way to ruin my plans, red. Now I'll have to find another redhead to watch movies with and junk."

"Movies, DJ? You've changed."

"We all change, Chlo. Even you." She smiled at me lightly and sipped her coffee some more before the questions she's been dying to ask come out.

"So, Becs. Anyone special in your life?"

I put down my coffee and shook my head slightly. "What happened to no small talk?" She raised her eyebrow as if to say 'don't be pedantic'

"Okay, okay. No and there hasn't been for a while now."

"Oh, how come?" She asked.

"I guess no one else has come close to being as perfect as she was."

"She? You're gay?" _Oh shit._ I completely forgot I wasn't out in college. _Fuck shit bugger tits. What do I say?!_

"Uhh, yeah. Is that- umm, is that a problem?" _Smooth Mitchell._

"You're asking me? Chloe? The infamously promiscuous bisexual from college if it's okay with me that you like women?"

I can't say I was expecting that answer.

"Well, I was but now you're being a dick about it so I don't care what you think anymore." I said with feigned offence and stuck my tongue out slightly at her as I crossed my arms over my chest. Chloe let out a small giggle at my childish action and oh sweet baby Jesus it is the best sound in the world.

She looked down at her watch and sighed.

"I have to go pick Nala up from school, here," she grabbed a napkin from the holder and a pen from her bag and wrote her number on there. "Call me sometime and we can have a real catch up, okay?"

I nodded and stood up to walk out with her. I opened the door for her but before she walked completely past me, she kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear.

Then she was gone and I was stood in the doorway like a fucking lemon. Again.

Her whispered words played over and over in my mind as I was walking back to the car.

" _I missed you, Becs. Please don't leave me again."_


	5. Chapter 5

**_AN: I'm not gonna lie to you guys, I've been having a slight nervous break down 'cause life. So if we could all be chill about the 4 month wait, that'd be fab._**

She's been on my mind for a few days now. I'm unsure of when is appropriate to text her and invite her out. I'm also unsure of why I'm so worried about what she thinks all of a sudden. I tell myself over and over it's because my life pretty much depends on her forgiving me but I can only lie to myself so many times. Yes, I might die if this goes sideways but I never was one to concern myself with the possibility of dying. I've spent so many years on the brink of death that I suppose I've become accustomed to the danger. The rush of adrenaline you get when you come close to your demise is more addictive than any drug I've ever taken. It's this addiction that made me a great agent and an even better criminal.

This feeling, however, is something entirely new to me. Something I never thought I was capable of.

Caring about people was never my strong point. For so many years it's this mindset that kept me alive. Don't care for anyone. They don't care about you so should show them the same courtesy. Not that this was ever a choice. Emotional attachment was never easy for me but that served me well. You don't kill people the way I've killed people and not feel a thing unless there's something wrong with you. I'm guessing normal people don't think about what they want for dinner while they're watching the life fall out of someone's eyes at your hands. Then again, I never was normal.

I may have done some questionable things in my time but nothing that's affected me as much as this. This is sending my brain into overdrive. I don't stick around long enough to suffer the consequences of my actions and watch the mess I created unfold but now I'm living through the consequences of leaving Chloe behind and it almost hurts.

This caring shit is awful. It's even worse knowing she's the only one I've probably cared this much about.

Swallowing my nervousness, I typed out a quick message in true, cocky Beca Mitchell fashion and hit send.

 _Beca: Hey, red. When's our next date?_

I can't say I expected a reply so quickly.

 _Chloe: That depends on you, DJ. You going to wine and dine me or take me for another cheap coffee?_

 _Beca: You know I don't do cheap dates, Beale._

 _Chloe: *Harris. A lot can change in 8 years, Becs. I mean, chinos and movies? Who are you?_

 _Beca: Was that a dig? Because ouch._

 _Chloe: Yup. Anyway, where are you taking me, stud?_

 _Beca: You forget I'm new in town, you should be telling me all the hot spots._

 _Chloe: No way, Mitchell. You're figuring out how to make it up to me by yourself, if I'm not impressed, well… I can't say I'd want to hang out with you._

 _Beca: Really? I'm fairly certain you've missed me too much to not hang out with me._

 _Chloe: Lies. It's all lies._

 _Beca: "I missed you Becs, don't leave me again" – Chloe Beale 2016_

 _Chloe: Harris*_

 _Beca: Whatever, Beale._

 _Chloe: What's that? You don't want someone to hang out with? Well, okay, if you're sure…_

 _Beca: You're just as weird and annoying as you were back in college._

 _Chloe: Thanks! (:_

 _Beca: That wasn't a compliment._

 _Chloe: That's what you think._

 _Beca: What are you talking about?_

 _Chloe: Beca, stop. What's the plan?_

Oh, jeez. What _is_ the plan? I did NOT think this through. I was so caught up in just wanting to see her I didn't think of how. She seems awfully flirty, do I run with it or…?

 _Chloe: I have stuff to do, text me a time and a place and I'll be there. Talk soon x_

Damn it. I need to go for a walk, clear my head a little.

"Hey, you with the stupid tie!" I shouted across the kitchen to the guy sat at my breakfast bar fiddling with some laptop. He turned to face me and raised his eyebrow. "I'm going out for a walk, I won't go far, I'll keep this thing on me," I held up the phone they'd given me so they could snoop through texts/calls and track where I was at all times. He nodded and continued his fiddling.

I'd been walking for about 20 minutes now and was starting to lose myself in my own head. That was when I passed the Starbucks I met Chloe in the other day and an idea struck me. I walked in and straight up to the counter where I was met with an unnaturally chipper blonde girl.

"Hi there, cutie, welcome to Starbucks! Can I take your order?" Okay, she's either flirting or had way too much coffee today.

"Umm, I just wanted to hand this in, someone must have dropped it outside." I handed her my phone from out of my back pocket. "I'm sure they'll be missing that at some point today," I let out a short chuckle and she placed the phone underneath the counter for safekeeping.

"Awh, well aren't you sweet? Not many people would have handed in such an expensive phone. The world needs more people like you!"

"Trust me," I craned my neck to get a look at her skewed nametag. "Joanne, the world does not need more people like me." I begin to walk away before walking back and saying "Oh, Joanne? Can you do me a huge favour? If anyone comes in here asking for someone of my description, regardless of how long from now it is, can you tell them I _just_ left before they came in?" I added a sweet smile to the end of my sentence to butter her up a bit.

The blonde pondered this for a minute.

"One condition."

Conditions? Who even is this girl? I nod my head slowly all the time wondering 'what the fuck?'

"You give me your number." There is it. I did not expect to run into some stereotypical _L Word_ style flirting today. I grab the sharpie from the counter and write down a fake number on a napkin with a fake name underneath. Sorry Joanne but you looked about 16 and no offence, blondes are so not my thing, not after meeting that Aca-Nazi, Aubrey.

"What time are you working until Jo? Is it okay if I call you that? I'm gonna call you that." I asked the girl.

"I'm only here until 3 today," she replied to me. Awesome, I can come back any time after 3.

"Okay, I expect a phone call after then!" I shouted on my way out of the door.

I walked a little further down the street before spotting a cab and hailing it down. I told the driver to take me to the high street of the town. I needed to get out more. Being stuck at that crappy house all day for nearly a week with people hovering over me every second is driving me insane.

The ride was quick and silent; he was doing his quietly judging thing, I was doing my awkwardly stare out the window and pretend I don't know he's judging me thing. Nothing eventful. We pulled up outside a small bar and I thanked the Gods for the fortuitous stopping point. I threw some bills at the driver and proceeded to get out. I'm not sure how much I gave him but by the gleeful yet questioning glint in his eye, I threw a lot. Oh well, I won't exactly miss it.

I made a beeline for the bar and ordered a beer and a shot of Jim Bean. The shot was the first to make its way down my throat. I sat and revelled in the taste of actual bourbon and not some cheap knock off that all the bars had back in Laos. I let my mind wander slightly back to the whole Chloe deal and what the hell I was going to do. I knew what I wanted to do, I wanted to go in there, all guns blazing, kill the bad guy, make Chloe swoon for me, save her from her bad-guy husband and ride off into the sunset with my small fortune. Happy days.

Oh no, wait. The kid. I forgot about the kid. Could I even handle a kid?

The thought never got a chance to complete itself I felt a very sudden presence by my right side.

"Miss Mitchell, correct?" I looked up to see a very, VERY large man sat next to me. My eyes widened slightly but then quickly shrunk back to normal.

"Who's asking?" I shot back as I grabbed my beer and went to put the neck of the bottle to my lips. Just before the glass could reach its destination, I felt the bottle pulled out from my grasp. I quipped around to see large man drinking my fucking beer. People really need to stop taking away my stuff.

The man turned his head to the bartender who quickly made himself scarce. Okay, now I am intrigued. The man straightened out his leather jacket and cleared his throat.

"Someone who doesn't enjoy being followed." He replied cryptically, taking another swig of my beer.

"No one enjoys being followed, you're going to have to be a little more specific." I said taking my beer back and finally getting a taste of the drink. I sat the glass down and put my attention back on the beast of a man sat next to me. I raised my eyebrows as if I was waiting impatiently for an answer.

"How about you just come with me, nice and easy, Miss Mitchell."

I looked down to see a small pistol in his hand about an inch away from my stomach. Fantastic.

"Lead the way, fat man." I rose from my stole and followed the guy outside and into a large black car where I was forced to sit between fat man and some other guy who looked like he belonged on The Black Pearl or some shit. (He had a stupid eye patch and weird face tattoos). The car began to drive off down the road and I will admit for a kidnapping, this was a relatively good one. The guys were polite and courteous, I wasn't uncomfortable or anything so yeah, all was as good as it could be for now.

It's best to remain proactive in these situations. I've been in a few and I tell you now, the second you panic, is the second you lose all possible control. Cooperate and remain calm so you're less likely to get hurt and more likely to have the same treatment given to you.

We sat in silence for the 10 minute car journey. It was an uncomfortable silence I will say but if that was the most of my worries then I think I'm doing okay right now. We pulled up to a stop and fat man took a piece of cloth from his pocket and placed it around my eyes.

"Sorry, Miss, it's just formalities." He said to me as he gently ushered me out of the car.

"Eh, don't worry about it, dude." I said to him as I stepped out of the car, careful not to fall flat on my face up the kerb. I patiently waited for someone to guide me to wherever it was they were taking me. I assume it was fat man who held my hand and weaved me through some serious amount of hallways and what not until we reached our destination and the blindfold was removed. The room was obviously being used as an office what with all the high-tech computers and paper work strewn across the desktops.

Someone I didn't notice on my first glance around the room sat up from the desk and made his was towards me. He was in his early 30's, brown hair starting to recede at the front and a shit-eating grin plastered on his face showing off his perfectly straight white teeth. He perched on the front of his desk and folded his arms clad in what I can assume is a very expensive suit. I raised my eyebrow at the man as he continued to smile at me.

"Miss Mitchell, I presume?" he spoke. Holy shit it's-

"My name's Tom Harris and boy have I been hearing a lot about you!" Oh God, he has the same level of exuberance as Chloe only his is annoying.

"All bad things I hope." I said with a small smirk.

"Oh, only the worst." He whispered with a stupid smile on his face and then winked at me. What an ass-douche.

"Sit down, Beca, we have a lot to discuss about your new job role here!" He gestured towards a big comfy office chair thingy and I happily took the seat.

"Job role, Harris?" I questioned as a black coffee was shoved into my hands. Okay, I could get used to this guy's annoying smile if coffee was involved.

"Ahh, yes! You see I know everything about you, Beca. Between my wife's incisive chitchat about what you and her got up to in college or her bitching about how you just disappeared and left her and my colleague's constant updates on where you are and what you're doing post-CIA, you're hard not to know. Minus about 6 months you kinda just went off the grid back in 2014." He took a sip of his own coffee before continuing.

"I know you're about as happy about being pulled into your little dilemma with the CIA as I am with them constantly on my back. So I propose a business opportunity! You report back to them whatever I ask you to, give them a load of false information and by the time they raid the place, boom. Me, you and anyone else with money tied up in this business are long gone. I'm thinking of an early retirement."

I internally scoffed. "What about your wife, your child? Just going to leave them behind?"

"What, you really think a dodgy town somewhere in South American is an ideal place for a 7 year old? Let's get real. They will be better off here, I have a large fund set up for Nala and Chloe has her own job. She doesn't need me to pay the bills, she makes more than enough."

Ugh, asshole.

"Uhh huh." I sipped my coffee and thought about his proposal. I noted a picture frame on his desk. I looked at the picture this cock deemed worthy of a frame. It was a picture of him with a dog. I'm assuming his dog.

"I can't assume you really care about what my wife gets up to, Mitchell. You did the same thing 8 years ago."

Smirking, I sat back into the chair and crossed my legs.

"So long as you get me out of the country by the time shit hits the fan, you got yourself a deal, Harris."

He smiled and shook my hand.

If only he knew.


	6. Chapter 6

_**AN: I HAVE RETURNED BITCHES!**_

"I have nothing in the way of assets that would lure you to not double- or is it triple? -Cross me, Miss Mitchell. It seems you have more money than you know what to do with. So I guess I will just have to trust you when you say that you just want out of here before they find out what's happened." Harris spoke. He briefly looked down at his phone vibrating on the desk and rolled his eyes before pressing ignore. "The wife." He stated as if it was some big inconvenience to have Chloe want to talk to him.

"It could have been important." I say not making eye contact with the man and continued sipping my now lukewarm coffee.

"Oh, it's never important." He pocketed the phone and stood up. "Gentlemen, could you please show Miss Mitchell out? I have to go see a man about a dog. By dog I mean a fuck tonne of cash." He added with a sly smirk and left the room.

What a complete ass. I was 'escorted' from the building and put back into the car without the blindfold this time. I guess he really did trust me not to go to the CIA. That's a lot of trust to put in someone like me, but who cares? Unfortunately, I need him and by the sounds of things, he needs me too, I just don't fully understand why… yet. I will find out, but for now, I need to figure out how to get Chloe away from this mess before it goes sideways.

"Hey, one of you guys got the time?" I asked one of the henchmen I was sat next to.

"13:37" They both replied without even pulling out their phones or looking at watches. I was momentarily impressed until I actually looked forward and saw the car radio displayed the time on it. Now I feel like a bit of an idiot. I pursed my lips and huffed as I sat back in my chair with my arms folded. What the hell was I supposed to do for another 2 hours?

Go to a bar. Why not? Might as well, it's not exactly going to be as eventful as the last one I went to. One small stop first though.

I patiently waited for the car to come to a halt along the main street in the town centre and got out. No sooner than I had stepped foot out of the car, the door slammed shut and the window opened.

"Expect to hear from us, Ms. Mitchell" and with that, the car pulled away.

I let out a sigh and looked at my surroundings. The town was quaint but uninteresting if I'm honest. I quickly made my way to the row of stores near by and walked into an electrical one. I didn't even bother looking around for what I needed; I went straight to the desk where some fedora wearing neck-beard type was sat. You know the type of guy that thinks feminism is cancer and thinks women are to blame for him not having a girlfriend. Like no, buddy. Your unusual obsession with World of Warcraft and Anime is the reason you're not getting laid. He looked up at me through his thick glasses and his eyes widened almost comically if he wasn't being so creepy.

His jaw opened and closed a few times but words seemed to elude him. Figured I'd cut him some slack.

"Sup. I need a phone. I don't care which phone. I just want to make a few calls and maybe a couple of texts. Preferably without the ability for Internet connection and oh! If it has snake on it that would be an added bonus." I paused looking at his stunned face. "Okay, maybe it does matter which one I get. I want an old Nokia with snake." He was still sat there after I told him what I wanted. "Dude, can you hook me up or am I gonna have to go else where?" I asked starting to get real impatient with him. He got up and ran into the back to return a few minutes later with the phone I had asked for.

"Here, it's fully charged. You know you can get the snake app on the new iPhone and Android models, right?" He finally spoke.

"Shut up." I quipped back as I took the phone out of his hands. I threw some bills on the counter and walked off.

"Hey!" he called back to me. "Don't you want the charger?"

"These things last a week before dying. Don't plan on needing it that long." I shouted back as I walked through the door leaving neck-bread to get back to whatever internet trolling he was doing before I came in.

I looked down at the phone in my hand and entered Chloe's number. I thought about texting her but decided a drink would be better first.

After wandering around for what seemed like ages, I found a bar not dissimilar to the one I was in this morning. I went up to the bar and ordered a beer and bourbon, determined to actually finish my drinks this time. The bartender poured my shot and then opened the cap on my beer and handed them both to me before going back to wiping down the bar.

I sat back and took my shot, enjoying the burn in my throat. I sat the glass down and looked back over the bar to order another one to find the bartender nowhere to be seen. I leaned over the bar to check to make sure he'd not collapsed or anything but nope. No bartender. I sat back on my stool with a confused expression and went to grab my beer. The beer wasn't there either. What the fuck? I looked to my right to see fat man from the earlier kidnapping sipping my beer and the same gun pointed at my stomach.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" I shouted. "Now what?! And give me back my fucking beer, fat man!" he handed me the now half full bottle of beer and motioned for me to get up. "Ugh! Where are we going this time?" I asked him and he pointed to the back of the room where a booth was hiding a figure I'd not noticed on my way in.

"At least there's no surprise car rides this time Miss." He said to me. "Oh, and it's not 'fat man' it's Fat Tony." He stated.

"Fat Tony as in from The Simpsons Fat Tony?"

"Do I look Italian to you? No. Pick your battles Miss Mitchell. I'm bigger than you."

"That's an understatement." I said as I was ushered into this booth. My beer was placed on the table and I finally looked up expecting to see Harris again. Well, I wasn't exactly wrong.

"Good afternoon, Beca!" She chirped.

"Good afternoon Chloe." I said now thoroughly confused. I picked up my beer and chugged the rest of it.

"I'm quite surprised you'd not figured this out yet!" She said as she picked up her gin and sipped it. "I thought you were a lot smarter than this. Must say, I'm not impressed. You're making me re-think my entire strategy."

"What strategy is that then, Red?"

"Well I wanted to you to be working for the CIA, working for my husband so he thinks he has the upper hand and then also be working for myself so ensure the CIA gets my husband and I get what I desire."

Wait what? Chloe is in on whatever the fuck this is?

"I'm assuming from the blank expression you have no idea what's going on."

She took her drink back in one and motioned for Fat Tony to get her. "The CIA isn't looking for my husband, Becs. They're looking for me. Only they don't know it yet and I needed you to ensure that they wouldn't find out it's me that's running the show. I want my husband to get caught. Call it back payment for all the shit you've both put me through over the years."

It finally clicked.

"You told the CIA where I was so I'd have no choice but to help you husband and in turn, you." I stated.

"Exactly. My husband likes to think I have no idea what's going on in his little world. I just work in insurance for all he knows. But I own it all. I'm his silent partner. Tony here doesn't work for Tom; he works for myself, as does everyone else he hired. The entire operation, his 'baby' was all my doing."

The fucking bitch. The sneaky, conniving bitch. I have never been more attracted to anyone ever before in my life.

"So what do you need me to do and what's in it for me?" I asked already knowing I was so in on whatever she had planned.

"Go along with my husband's plans. Let him do what he wants. Feed his ego. He's a dictionary definition of a narcissist. He will only treat you nicely if he thinks he's getting something from you. He will try to play you to get you so do his bidding but will never follow through on his promises. He is the only person that matters to him. He will leave you to the wolves the second you're no longer of use to him, that I can promise you. Feed the CIA the information but also tell me exactly what's going on so I don't have to rely on Smith anymore. They know there's a mole and I'd rather have the heat taken off him for a while so I can use him in the future."

Smith. I should have seen it coming. That man's so getting a punch in the face when I see him next. Could have warned me.

"You never told me what's in it for me, Red."

"Two things. One: the CIA won't be able to prosecute you if I make you disappear. Two: I'm going to need company when I leave the country and someone to help me move all this illegal money out. And to help myself and Nala spend it all."

"Chloe, what sort of proposal is that?" I said unable to keep the smirk of my face. "I have money. Gonna have to make your proposal sexier than that to interest me."

"How about this?" She leaned in closer towards me and I leaned in a little too so I could here her whisper in my ear. "Don't do as I say and I'll kill you myself with my bare hands before the CIA gets to you." She smiled brightly and kissed the tip of my nose before retuning to her drink.

Okay, I'm seriously wet right now. Who is this woman and what has she done with the old Chloe? Actually, I don't care. This new Chloe is hot as fuck.


End file.
